


you are in love

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-06-30 05:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Fitz takes a road trip with his boyfriend.





	1. coffee at midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theclaravoyant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/gifts).



Leo Fitz is absolutely, utterly knackered. He’s not entirely sure whose bright idea it was to allow a final exam that started at six o’clock at night, but whoever it was - Fitz hates them. He spent the entire day studying, even though he didn’t really need to, so he’s exhausted. But he needs to pack, because Hunter is going to be here -

There’s a knock on his door. Apparently Lance Hunter decided to be early for once in his life. Fitz picks his way through the mess of suitcases that are strewn on the floor of his dorm room, half-full of all of his possessions. He can’t even really be mad at Lance for showing up early, because Fitz had spent practically the entire semester yelling at him that he needed to be more prompt. (Well, Jemma had spent the entire semester yelling at Hunter, and Fitz had nodded in all the right places.)

Fitz swings open the door with one hand, nudging a suitcase to the side with the other. He offers Hunter an apologetic smile. “Didn’t quite get everything packed,” he says sheepishly.

“S’alright,” Hunter says, sliding through the opened door. “Do you want any help?” 

Fitz shakes his head; most of his things are organized; he just needs to put them all into his suitcases, and while he loves Hunter, the man isn’t exactly as organized as Fitz is. He doesn’t want anything getting messed up in the process.

“Any of them ready to go to the car?” Hunter asks instead. Fitz nods, gesturing to two of his bags. Hunter reaches to pick them up, and grunts at the weight. “What do you got in here, rocks?” 

“Textbooks,” Fitz answers apologetically. “Have to -”

“Spend the entire summer studying instead of spending time with your boyfriend?” Hunter finishes. Fitz huffs, about to make a smart comment about the importance of studying, but Hunter’s eyes are gleaming with amusement, and he realizes it’s a joke.

“Ha ha,” FItz intones drily. “Isn’t five days in a car more than enough time with me?”

“Nah.” Hunter reaches over to ruffle Fitz’s hair affectionately. “Especially since I haven’t seen you for the past two weeks.” There’s a hint of reproach in his voice, and Fitz turns his gaze away, busying himself instead with placing the rest of his clothing into a suitcase. He needs to get better about balance. Hunter tends to get the short shrift when Fitz is busy, and that’s not fair to them and their fledgling relationship.

“Alright if I prop the door?” Hunter asks, either oblivious to Fitz’s burning cheeks or choosing to ignore them. He nods, and Hunter leaves. His biceps look rather magnificent straining against the weight of the suitcase, and Fitz allows himself a moment of appreciation before returning to his packing. 

By the time Hunter gets back, Fitz has finished with two more suitcases for him to take to the car. After that, there’s only three more left, and then they can be on their way. Fitz had been hoping to get on the road before nine, but it looks unlikely. He should’ve started packing earlier - but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

It’s quarter past when they finally make their way to the car. Hunter stops him a few feet away, and before Fitz can so much as open his mouth to ask about the delay, his boyfriend’s lips are on his. Hunter is a fantastic kisser. Fitz stands on the tips of his toes so Hunter doesn’t have to crane down quite as far, hoping it’ll mean the kiss will last longer.

They pull away a minute later, and Fitz is suddenly aware that they’ve been blocking the sidewalk. Luckily the campus is so entirely dead that no one’s had to brush past him, but heat still creeps into his cheeks at the thought.

Hunter presses something into Fitz’s hand, and he frowns as he looks down. “What’s this?”

“Chapstick,” Hunter answers, smiling cheekily. “You could use some.”

“Hey!” Fitz says, shoving at Hunter. 

“I only seek to make my kissing experience more enjoyable,” Hunter teases. He laughs at Fitz’s screwed-up face, jogging the last few steps to the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

Fitz plops into the passenger’s seat, and makes a show of putting on about seven layers of Chapstick. The excessive amount of lip balm makes his lips feel sticky, and Fitz frowns. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so dramatic.

“You eaten dinner?” Hunter asks as they navigate out of the maze of the campus, heading towards the highway. 

Fitz shakes his head. “Too nervous.”

Hunter reaches over with one hand to pat his shoulder. “I’m sure you did excellent, love.”

“I know.” Fitz sighs. There hasn’t been a time when he hasn’t aced all of his exams. “But the real question is, did Jemma do better?” He and his study partner are competitive, probably in excess, and Fitz just wants to know which one of them came out on top.

Hunter chuckles. “You two are so weird, do you know that?”

“What’s so weird about having a science friend!?” Fitz asks indignantly. “Besides, Jemma’s the only one on earth who’s  _ nearly _ as smart as me.” He was a little in awe of Jemma Simmons and her brilliant brain, if he was honest.

“Thanks, Fitz,” Hunter replies with an eye roll. He doesn’t seem all that bothered by the declaration, but Fitz feels the need to defend himself anyways.

“Intelligence isn’t the only factor in a relationship, Lance.” Fitz gives an eye roll of his own. 

“I know, love.” Hunter glances over at Fitz. “Macca’s alright?” There’s one in just under a mile, if the signs on the side of the road are to be believed.

Fitz shrugs. He doesn’t really care for fast food, but he understands it’s a bit of a necessity when on the road. He should’ve asked Jemma to make him one of her sandwiches, Fitz thinks with a forlorn sigh.

They pull into the McDonald’s drive-thru, and Hunter places their order. Fitz raises his eyebrows at the inclusion of coffee in their order. 

“Soda doesn’t have enough caffeine,” Hunter answers before Fitz can ask. “I figure if we drive all night it’ll give us more time to do things when we’re closer to your uncle’s house.”

Fitz nods his understanding. He hasn’t been on many road trips before, and he’s more than willing to let Hunter determine their schedule. Most of the space between his college campus in California and his uncle’s suburban house in Wisconsin is desert or farmland, which isn’t particularly interesting. He trusts Hunter to find something cool to do, though; his boyfriend’s job as a photographer often has him searching for interesting locations

They receive their food, and Fitz insists that they sit in the parking lot so Hunter doesn’t have to eat one-handed. They’re already enough behind schedule that the extra ten minutes to eat probably won’t mean anything in the end.

“So, you aced your exams.” Hunter waves a fry, and Fitz smirks before leaning forward and chomping down on it. “Oi!”

“It’s my reward for finishing my exams,” Fitz says, attempting to look innocent. He needs to ask Jemma how she does the whole wide-eyed puppy-dog look - it seems like it would be useful to employ on his boyfriend.

“Funny, I thought this road trip was your reward,” Hunter answers. 

Fitz smiles at him. “Yeah, that too.” He really is looking forward to seeing more of America. His Uncle Phil was his only family on this side of the Atlantic Ocean, so he didn’t have an excuse to see much of the country, but Hunter was insistent that seeing the country would be worth the cost of gas. 

“Why didn’t you get tea?” Fitz asks, out of the blue. Hunter  _ hates _ coffee, he realizes, a little belatedly.

“Like I’d trust an American with my tea,” Hunter sniffs. “Bob’s the only one who’s half-decent at it, and that’s only because she has me.” Hunter’s tone is a little self-congratulatory, but FItz is in total agreement about the state of America and its ability to make passable tea. (Honestly, who makes tea that’s  _ cold _ ? It’s an abomination.) He’s never had Bobbi make him a cuppa, so he can’t confirm nor deny her skill, but he trusts Lance’s judgement on that front.

“Besides,” Hunter continues. “Tea also doesn’t have as much caffeine as coffee.”

Fitz frowns. “Don’t make yourself miserable.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Hunter answers with a pout. “I’m excited for this. I want to start on the right foot.”

Fitz studies Hunter for a long moment, the light of the streetlamp casting his boyfriend’s features into sharp relief. He nods slowly. “I’m sorry I can’t drive.” Hunter’s car is a stick, and Fitz had only learned automatic. It had seemed silly to rent a car for the trip when they had a perfectly good one at their disposal. 

Hunter shrugs. “Just means you’ll have more time to enjoy the view.” Fitz huffs in response, wishing that Hunter would allow him to feel sorry for  _ something _ .

They finish eating their much-delayed dinner, and in short order they’re on the highway. Leaving the bright lights of the city behind is a relief, and Fitz relaxes a little. Soon all that’s left is the golden cone of light from Hunter’s headlights, and the soft amber and red smudges of headlights in the opposite direction and taillights ahead of them.

Hunter turns on the radio, and the soft drone of voices fills the comfortable silence between them. Sometime around half-gone eleven, Hunter starts sipping on his coffee, and not long after that, Fitz is lulled to sleep by the movement of the car and the sound of Hunter’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fitz's birthday!


	2. you kiss on sidewalks

When Fitz wakes up, they’re parked in an unfamiliar parking lot, sunlight streaming in through the front window of the car. Hunter had done the honors of unbuckling Fitz’s seatbelt and reclining his seat as far back as it would go, but Fitz’s boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

Since he doesn’t have any idea where he is - Fitz doesn’t even know what state they’re in - he elects to stay still. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost, right? He trusts that Hunter at least knows where they are, but since Hunter isn’t _here_ , and he didn’t leave a note, Fitz is going to count himself as lost for now. He checks his phone to see if Hunter texted him, but no dice - there’s just a missed call from…

Crap. He had told Uncle Phil he was going to call when he left uni, and in the mess that had been the night previous, he had entirely forgotten to make good on that promise.

Fitz sends a quick text to Hunter to let him know he’s awake (and ask where the hell they are), and then dials his uncle’s number, apologies already thick on his tongue.

“Leo!” Uncle Phil greets enthusiastically. “I was beginning to worry about you. Your friend didn’t kidnap you, did he?”

Fitz suddenly remembers why he was kind of dreading this call, and all of his half-formed sorries fly out of his head.

“My boyfriend,” he corrects. It’s better just to get it out of the way now, rather than show up at Phil’s house and have to explain why Hunter would assume they’re sharing a room.

“I know, he’s your - oh,” Phil says. There’s an awkward beat while his uncle processes that Lance is his boyfriend, not his boy-space-friend, which had rightfully been his assumption. Fitz had never really talked with Phil about his romantic attractions. There wasn’t much to talk about in the first place, but when there was something to talk about, Phil wasn’t exactly on the top of his list for a variety of reasons. “Well, he didn’t kidnap you, did he?”

Fitz’s shoulders relax. He hadn’t really expected his uncle to make a big fuss out of his coming out, but it was a relief all the same. “No, he didn’t kidnap me.”

“That’s good, kiddo.”

Fitz rolls his eyes - not that there’s anyone there to see it. If Hunter was there, he’d probably make a sarcastic comment about Fitz sassing his uncle, so it’s probably for the better that he’s still MIA. “I’m not a kiddo anymore, Phil.”

“You’ll always be a kiddo to me, kiddo,” his uncle responds. “I changed your diapers, so I can call you whatever I want.”

“I know that’s a lie,” Fitz interjects with a laugh. Phil had moved across the ocean before his parents had even gotten married, so he wasn’t around much when Fitz was a child - and certainly not around enough to change his nappies. “I thought you were opposed to historical revisionism?”

“I am!” His uncle squawks indignantly. He takes a breath, probably preparing to tirade, when a shadow dances across the dashboard, and Hunter appears in front of the car.

“Sorry, Phil, I gotta go!” Fitz rushes out, hanging up on the man before Hunter ducks into the driver’s seat again.

“Who was that?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

“Just Phil,” Fitz says with a shrug. “I was supposed to call him last night to tell him we were leaving. He thought you kidnapped me.”

Hunter barks out a laugh. “Would I really have to kidnap you to get you to go somewhere with me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Fitz says with a wry smile. He leans across the center console to peck Hunter on the lips, withdrawing with a fond smile on his face.

“Good,” Hunter declares. He produces a bag that Fitz hadn’t noticed before - it’s brown paper, like a lunch bag, and unmarked.

“Please tell me that’s not booze.” It was _way_ too early to be drinking, especially if they were going to be driving the rest of the day.

“Oi! Have a little faith!” Hunter exclaims. “There’s a motel up the street from here, and they agreed to give me some of their breakfast food. I’m charming like that, you know.” Hunter makes a face as he opens the bag. “The toast is a little burned, but it looks mostly okay.”

Fitz paws around in the bag, and furrows his brows. “If this is a little burned, I’d hate to see what you think really burned is.” The piece of bread is basically a hockey puck.

Hunter shrugs. “You know, I have never managed to produce one single piece of unburned toast in my lifetime.” Fitz files the knowledge away for later examination. He loves learning these little things about Hunter - quirks that he’d never think to ask about, but paint a fuller picture of his boyfriend. Every time Fitz learns something new about Hunter, it’s like falling in love all over again.

“Sounds like quite the character defect,” Fitz teases, grabbing a muffin that looks substantially better than the toast in question. “Whatever will I do with a boyfriend that can’t make toast?”

“Kick him to the curb, probably,” Hunter says morosely. “Just when I was about to meet your uncle, too. He’ll be so disappointed.”

“He will be,” Fitz says. There’s too much space in between them for him to jostle Hunter in the affectionate way his boyfriend normally does him, but Fitz manages to drape his arm around Hunter’s shoulders, albeit awkwardly. “He’s never actually met one of my partners before.”

Hunter perks up. “Really?”

“Well, you know the story with my dad,” Fitz says. Hunter nods his understanding. “I guess - after what he had to say about - well, everything - I just,” Fitz shrugs. “I just was really afraid, you know?” His thoughts had fractured into a string of barely comprehensible words, but Hunter just keeps nodding.

“Because they might not take it well, yeah,” he agrees. “And showing someone something you love is hard, anyways. I never showed my parents any of my photos or anything.” Hunter cringes. “Not that it’s the same thing, but -”

“I get it,” Fitz says, smiling. He doesn’t want Hunter to fall into babbling like he had. Honestly, it’s enough just to know that someone _tries_ to understand him - that’s a hell of a lot more than most people do.

They sit in silence for a while, eating their breakfast. Hunter even chomps his way through a slice of the burned toast. Fitz suspects that’s to prove that it’s possible more than because he enjoys the taste of the toast.

“You wanna stretch your legs before we start again?” Hunter asks. Fitz nods. His muscles are knotted uncomfortably tight after all night in the car, and his legs are vaguely numb from not having stood up in quite a while. Hunter grabs the mostly-empty bag of food off the center console, astutely ignoring the remaining burned toast.

Fitz stumbles as he gets out of the car, pins and needles crawling across his legs as the blood rushes back into them. Hunter’s arm wraps around his waist, and Fitz makes a face at him. “I can walk,” he insists.

“I’m aware,” Hunter says. “Maybe I just like holding you.”

Fitz rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest further.

“There’s actually something I want to show you,” Hunter says as they walk - or in Fitz’s case, hobble - towards the nearest trash can. Fitz raises his eyebrows. Considering they’re still in the Twilight Zone as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t know what there is worth showing.

“Come,” Hunter says, tugging on Fitz.

“I’m coming,” Fitz whines, speeding up to keep pace with Hunter’s longer legs.

They walk down the sidewalk, Fitz looking around at the signage to try to determine their location. All he’s got is that they’re in the desert, which isn’t all that helpful considering the entire southwest is basically one huge desert.

“Here!” Hunter says, stopping suddenly. “Look!”

Fitz isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be looking at, until Hunter points at the sidewalk at their feet. In the concrete is a crude LH, obviously drawn when the cement was wet.

“You’re a vandal, Lance,” Fitz says, exasperated.

“It was my mark on the world! It’s my place!” Hunter insists. “It’s a really great story, too. I’ll have to tell you it sometime.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Fitz says. Hunter looks at him for a moment, and the next moment Hunter’s lips are on his, soft and warm and insistent. Fitz doesn’t know what to do other than kiss back - not that he wouldn’t have done that anyways.

“What was that for?” Fitz asks when they break away.

“Sometimes people just look like they need to be kissed,” Hunter shrugs, averting his eyes from Fitz’s. “Nothing big. Let’s get back to the car, yeah?”

Fitz considers Hunter for a moment, leaning up to peck him on the cheek.

“Race you back?” Fitz suggests. Before Hunter can respond, he takes off.

“No fair!” Hunter calls after him. Fitz doesn’t care that it’s not fair - all he cares about is Hunter’s happy laughter, floating endlessly into the boundless blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -shows up late with Starbucks- Oops? :)


	3. pauses, then says, you’re my best friend

Fitz isn’t sure which is worse: endless sand, or endless corn. The beginning of the day had started with more desert. There was a respite when they had navigated their way through the Rocky Mountains, but Fitz was too busy trying not to think about plummeting over the edge of the winding mountain roads to be able to appreciate the scenery fully. (He was beginning think that maybe he wasn’t cut out for road trips - he liked spending the hours with Hunter, quizzing his boyfriend on anything that came to mind, but the time in the car? Not so fun.)

Once they left the mountains, it was only a matter of time before the desert sands were replaced with corn fields. There were probably other kinds of fields, too, but Fitz could only properly identify the corn. _So much corn_.

He has no idea how Hunter manages to drive through the monotony that is Nebraska. Nebraska seems like the sort of place that only exists in horror movies, where you just drive and drive and get absolutely nowhere. Fitz refrains from voicing this thought to Hunter, because the one time he and his boyfriend had watched a horror movie together, neither of them had slept for a week. Fitz does not want a repeat - even if some of the things they did instead of sleep were exceedingly enjoyable.

“Are we going to sleep in a real hotel tonight?” Fitz asks as the sun begins to touch the horizon. He’s not trying to sound ungrateful, especially not since he hadn’t done any of the driving and thus didn’t have much of an excuse to be tired, but Fitz wants to sleep in a real bed. Preferably a real bed that also has Hunter in it.

“We are,” his boyfriend answers. “I made us a reservation at the last rest stop. It’s only a couple more miles.” Hunter smiles teasingly. “I know how you need your beauty sleep.”

Fitz squawks indignantly. “I don’t need beauty sleep!”

“Are you sure?” Hunter asks. “Because you sure are beautiful to me.”

Fitz rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the fond smile from creeping onto his face. “Don’t think I need sleep to make you think I’m beautiful.”

“Point,” Hunter says, inclining his head in Fitz’s direction. He exits the highway, navigating through the small town until the bright lights of the hotel come into view.

Hunter drops Fitz off with the bags before going to park the car. Fitz lugs both of the suitcases with their clothing in through the front door, lamenting his own overpacking as he steps up to the welcome desk and receives the room key. Hunter steps through the doorway just in time to save Fitz from having to drag both of their bags over to the elevator.

When they get up to their room, Fitz flops onto the bed before even taking off his shoes. He’s just finishing sinking into the mattress when he feels a pillow hit between his shoulders.

“Oi!” Fitz groans, muffled by the bed. “Just let me die here, in peace!” After another whack, Fitz finally admits defeat, standing up. “You’re the worst boyfriend ever,” he mutters as he opens one of the suitcases, grabbing out his toothbrush and Hunter’s.

“You say that at least once a day, Fitzy, but as far as I can tell, you’ve made no attempt at breaking up with me,” Hunter says. He kicks off his shoes, then stretches. Fitz winces at the series of snapping noises that travel up Hunter’s spine. The man needs a chiropractor - or maybe just a good night’s sleep on something that isn’t a car seat.

Fitz doesn’t continue the argument, finishing setting up their toiletries around the hotel sink. When he’s finished, he joins Hunter on the bed. One of the pillows is still askew from when Hunter had used it as a weapon, and Fitz straightens it compulsively before tucking himself into Hunter’s side. It’s only eight o’clock, and he’s done nothing but sit all day, but he’s still exhausted.

“Guess sex is out of the question?” Hunter asks as Fitz yawns. Fitz snorts, and grabs the pillow he just finished straightening so he can smack Hunter with it.

“Hotel sex is so cliche, Lance,” Fitz says. He gets a faceful of Hunter’s pillow for his insolence, and it all goes downhill from there. Fitz is a grown-ass person, and he’s having a pillow fight with his boyfriend. There may or may not be jumping on the bed involved as well. (There is. There definitely is.)

It doesn’t end in Fitz’s favor, of course. Hunter isn’t much taller than Fitz, but he’s much more muscled - and he fights dirty. It ends with Fitz pinned under Hunter, their faces mere inches from each other while Hunter lays on top of him.

“Surrender, Leopold,” Hunter breathes. His face is flushed and his lips are an inviting carnation pink. Surrendering is the last thing on Fitz’s mind - but he also knows that he can’t kiss Hunter until he does, otherwise his boyfriend will think it’s a complicated ruse. To be fair, that does sound like something that Fitz would do, but not right now.

“I surrender,” Fitz groans. _Then_ he kisses Hunter, the taste of laughter sweet on his lips.

Hunter rolls off Fitz, content in his victory, and they end up face-to-face on the bed. Fitz catches another kiss, and then another, and another. Hunter pauses after the fourth kiss, resting his forehead against Fitz’s.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Hunter asks quietly. The words hang heavy in the air before Fitz musters a response.

“I won’t tell Bobbi you said that,” Fitz says, looking away from Hunter. He had half expected the confession to be something else, and while he’s _fine_ with hearing those words… it’s still a little weird to think about.

“Nah, Bobbi knows,” Hunter says. Fitz looks back at him in time to see a cautious smile. “She thinks you’re good for me.”

“I hope I am.”

“You are,” Hunter insists. He wraps his arms around Fitz’s waist, pulling him close. Fitz tucks his head under Hunter’s chin, curling up in Hunter’s embrace.

Sleeping in the car hadn’t been bad, but it’s nothing compared to falling asleep in Hunter’s arms.

\---

When Fitz wakes up, it’s abrupt. He bangs his head against Hunter’s chin, barely hearing the resulting groan of pain over the chirp of an alarm. The lights in the hotel room are still on - they hadn’t turned them off before falling asleep, after all - but the sky outside is dark.

“Wha’ time is it?” Fitz slurs groggily, still searching for the source of the alarm.

Hunter reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing his phone. He squints at the screen before jumping out of bed, tugging Fitz up with him.

“Where we going?” Fitz asks, still half asleep. Hunter doesn’t answer, just keeps pulling Fitz down the hallway until they reach the elevator. Fitz doesn’t have the mental capacity to care about what button Hunter’s pressed - at least, not until the doors open and they’re on the _roof_.

“What’s happening?” Fitz isn’t expecting to get an answer to this question, since Hunter hadn’t answered him before. He’s right in that expectation - Hunter doesn’t answer, just ushers him out onto the roof with a mad smile on his face. The air is cooler than Fitz expected for a June night, and he huddles closer to Hunter.

“Look up,” Hunter whispers. Fitz does, his shoulder brushing against Hunter’s as he shifts.

Fitz has seen a meteor shower before, but nothing like this one. For one thing, the sky is amazingly clear. The town they stopped in is the only one for miles around, and there’s hardly any light pollution to mar the view of the Milky Way. The meteor that just lit up the sky was bright white, silhouetted beautifully against the navy blue sky.

“I wasn’t sure whether or not it’d happen,” Hunter murmurs from beside Fitz, slinging his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up if our timing was off.”

Meteor showers aren’t once-in-a-lifetime experiences, but standing there with Hunter, it feels like one. Fitz can’t muster a response, so he stops trying. He just turns his face towards the stars, takes Hunter’s hand in his, and tries to hold onto this moment forever.


End file.
